


La Douleur Exquise

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asphyxiation, Black Mask! Goro, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Pining, Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, some spice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Akira Kurusu is having a difficult time differentiating Goro Akechi from the Black Mask.(or, Akechi runs at the last moment and Akira chases him down.)





	La Douleur Exquise

Akira’s mind buzzes - he registers the shocked shouts from his teammates, the hiss of air that squeals out of the pipes of the engine room, the sound of Akechi’s frantic footsteps as he makes a beeline for the exit - for his escape, for whatever brief respite he may have before he comes after them _again_ and _again -_

A growl sits at the back of his throat. _Ridiculous._ This entire situation is just ridiculous.

He doesn’t relent. He chases Akechi from the belly of the ship, back out onto its side decks. Masked guests startle, jumping out of the way of the two, and Akira ignores the pounding that’s rattling his brain, making extra caution to not regard the trail of blood that the traitor leaves in his wake for too long.

He has four bullets left.

He can’t let Akechi get away.

Akechi, who plotted his murder, who has killed a countless amount of people, who used Makoto’s older sister and Haru’s father and Futaba’s mother.

Akechi, who sat in the second seat to the door on the counter of Leblanc. Who gave him earnest smiles and laughter as he quietly drank his coffee. The boy who lamented his mother's death to him, all those weeks ago, his forlorn gaze settled into the rich brew that he favored.

Akira can’t bite back the scowl that tugs at his lips. _No._ He can’t let himself falter - Akechi is crazy, he’s a murderer, he needs to be taken down.

_Don’t let him get away, don’t let him get away._

He spots the ends of Akechi’s frayed cape disappear behind a closing door. There’s an approaching shadow - he whips out his gun and shoots it between the eyes, not letting himself miss a single step as he jumps over the fallen shadow and slips past the frame just as the door closes. Three bullets left.

Before everything, chasing Akechi had been fun. He took pleasure in trying to track down the ever-elusive detective, in flirting with him, looking for an opening, anything. It was like a game - Akira lays down his cards, and waits for Akechi’s hand.

He’s only gotten glimpses. The flushed tips of his ears when Akira is feeling especially bold with his words, the melancholic haze that clouds his vision when he’s living in his past, the quiet moments they spent while in Mementos, wrapping his hands with such calculated precision and care that it stung at his heart.

Akira hates that he understands - he despises the kinship that ties them together, the bond that seemingly refuses to be severed, the feeling of being connected in ways that he can not grasp. There is just something there, hidden under the layers that Akechi Goro drapes himself with, something that desires to sparkle.

Despite everything, he wants to make it shine.

_No._

He had once thought Akechi to be perfect - he was kind, righteous, beautiful. He ached to know him, and he hung onto those moments that they met at the station; the times he came home to find him hunched over the counter, legs crossed and eyebrows knit together as he pored over his work.

He still remembers how his heart jumped into his throat when Akechi looked up at him, his hair slightly mussed from its style and russet brown irises lit with what he had presumed as delight.

“Welcome home,” he had said, mouth curling into that smile that was like the sun.

_Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong._

He finds himself in a long hallway. Akechi isn’t here - but there is a single door that sits at the end, a dark wood that shimmers within the cognitive world.

A safe room.

Akira could almost smile at the irony.

He takes a step towards the room. Nothing happens, so he takes another, and another, and soon he’s in front of the door, the disorienting feeling of the fading cognition settling into his core.

His grip tightens around his gun. He has three bullets - surely, with his Personas, it will be enough.

He twists the knob and pushes the door open. The light is dim, and he gives the room a cautionary glance before he steps inside fully.

He sucks in a breath when he hears the door shut behind him.

“So,” Akechi says, a sigh on his breath. He’s behind him. Akira hears a shuffle, and then the black helmet that Akechi was wearing is thrown onto the floor. “You followed me.”

He stares at it - the black mask. The very symbol of what’s been plaguing Japan for the past two years.

He can’t help the smirk that coils his lips. It’s habit, he presumes, that his Joker persona naturally takes over while danger is present.

“Of course I did,” he replies, voice cool and yet unaffected by the thoughts that clash through him. “You’re a liability.”

Akechi steps out from behind. There’s blood freckled across his face; a gnash right above his left eye. “What now, then,” he asks, and Akira registers just how _tired_ he sounds. “What will you do to me? Kill me?”

“The Phantom Thieves don’t kill.”

A cruel smile twists at Akechi’s lips. “No,” he agrees. “They don’t.”

A pause. Akira takes this chance to look over his enemy. Akechi’s dark outfit has been shredded at the arms, and where he once had long sleeves, are only tatters of fabric that reveal the pale skin of his arms. The wound that had left smears of blood in his wake is now only a dark stain across his side. _He must’ve healed it while he was waiting._

“What will you do to me then?” Akechi’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he looks back up to his face. “Change my heart? Make me have a tearful confession in front of the entire world?”

Akira stares at him. There is nothing in his tone or in his disposition that tells him that he’s in danger, but that is dangerous in itself.

But there's hope - he sees it, a light in the dark, and he yearns to reach it, to grab it and pull with all of his might.

“Goro,” Akira starts, and watches how Akechi reacts to his given name, sees how it causes his entire body to reel back. He pockets his gun into his pants pocket slowly, Akechi’s careful watch following the movement with an indiscernible gaze. “Please. You can fix this. We can fix it all together.”

An array of emotions flicker over Akechi’s face, and it contorts horrendously into a grimace.

“You can’t be serious. I just tried to kill all of you.”

“But you couldn’t,” Akira says, and anger flashes across Akechi’s eyes. “You ran at the last second.”

Akechi stares wildly at him. “You don’t possibly think that I would change my mind in such a short amount of time.”

He ignores the pang that stabs into him at this and whispers. “I want to.”

He doesn’t know what to expect. Akechi’s jaw is taut, rigid as he processes his words.

Finally, it slackens. “I’m a murderer,” he says, and Akira is thrust back in time, the words being spoken with such abject glum that he’s reminded of the time in summer, Akechi coming into Leblanc for the first time, confiding to him about what had happened to his mother.

His words from back then ring through his head. _“It seems I’m unwelcome no matter where I go.”_

The boy before him shakes his head and takes a breath that rattles his entire body. “There is no such thing as salvation for someone like me. I can no longer go back from where I am.”

Akira _knows._

Akechi had pointed his gun at him without any hesitation. He’d gone on, thinking that he had killed him, and all the blood that he’s spilled before then -

“I can’t,” he says, and it feels like his entire body is deflating, ridding itself of all the thoughts he’s been carrying within him. “I can’t believe that there isn’t a part of you that isn’t _good._ That isn’t like the rest of us.”

There _has_ to be. Akechi had given his reason for his justice to the Thieves himself, before they even knew of his agenda, and there was no way he could only imagine the sincerity of his words, the bond that seemed to effortlessly strengthen whenever he was around.

Back in the engine room, he had said himself that he wished that they were able to meet before everything had happened.

And, hell - there is a part of him that is enticed by the danger of it all. He doesn’t know if he’s right. But it doesn’t matter.

He will try his _damn best_ to convince him.

 _Lay down your cards_.

Akira’s lips naturally curl. “It’s about time you stopped doubting me, Goro,” his voice comes out cool, as simple as breathing. “You can’t still believe that I’m too stupid to notice.”

There’s a light that flares into Akechi’s eyes. It’s the same one that would light whenever they played their games, one of confidence and challenge. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play stupid.” Akira searches his gaze for any tells - none yet. Fine. He takes it a step further. “You couldn’t kill us, and it’s not because you’re weak. It’s because you don’t want to.”

Akechi’s hand shoots out and he grabs Akira by the neck, fingers pressing into his skin, but there’s hesitance there - Akechi has the power to fully press his palm to his throat, to suffocate him, but he merely settles with the threat of it. He huffs out a laugh. Interesting.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Akechi says, but he has lost that certainty and sharp confidence that he carried when he first jumped down from the banisters and challenged the Thieves to a deathmatch.

“You don’t know anything about yourself,” Akira bites back.

The words elicit a reaction out of him - he pushes Akira back and into the wall behind him, the light now burning embers. “And you think that you do?”

“Yes.” He lays his hand on top of the one wrapped around his neck. “You say you only live for revenge, but that’s not true. You want love. Companionship.”

Akechi’s eye twitches, but he keeps his composure. “Let me guess. You’re going to tell me that you and the Thieves can give me that.”

He curls his fingers around Akechi’s, and peels his hand off of him. “You’re very perceptive, Mr. Detective Prince.”

Akechi’s hand falls back to his side and he steps away. Akira tries to gauge his expression - a mix between disbelief and amusement. “Your friends will never accept me.”

“But I will.”

“Don’t say that,” Akechi’s fingers weave through his own hair, and he turns his back to him. His words start to become frantic. “There’s no - no, you - you’re lying -”

The words are out of his mouth before he can turn them over properly. “There’s only one liar in this room, Goro.”

Akechi barks out a laugh that dissolves into manic snickers. “Oh,” he huffs, “This is just - this is rich.” He spins around, eyes slightly manic. “Yes, I am cold, heartless liar, but you’ve known about that for quite the time, haven’t you?”

Akira waves a hand in the air. “You’re missing the point. You’ve lied to yourself far more than anyone else.”

Silence pools around them. Akechi’s mouth hangs open, an inexplicably humorous action to be committed by a person who takes such care of his appearance - even if most of it is merely a guise for the public. Akechi has shown him many sides of him in the past month, but his obviously discomforted surprise is one that he wants to memorize.

He seems to realize himself, and his mouth wrenches closed. Akira steps back towards him, and to his delight, Akechi doesn’t move back.

“I hate you.”

“No,” Akira sighs. “You don’t.”

“ _No,_ ” Akechi growls, and he begins to lift his hands back towards Akira, who snatches his wrists. Akechi tries to pull away, but there’s hesitance in his actions, something that he’s never seen from him before.

He wants to take hold of it.

“Goro,” he whispers. Akechi’s struggles falter at his tone, and he looks back up at him, their gazes meeting. “It’s okay to be honest.”

Akechi's words come out quiet and broken. “I- I don't know. I don't know if I can.”

“It's okay.” He releases his hands slowly, carefully watching him. “Just try.”

Akira doesn't try to keep his distance when Akechi deliberately closes in once again. A hand brushes against his neck, but it does not curl around it like before. It's a gentle touch, one that sends shivers dancing across Akira’s skin.

Akechi looks at Akira with an apprehensive stare. Akira manages a nod, and it takes all that he has to not be the first to lean in and close the pitifully short distance between them.

Akira doesn’t close his eyes - he finds that Akechi doesn’t either, his barely open as he tentatively presses their lips together. The contact sends shivers of excitement racing up and down Akira’s spine, but he finds that wariness still has a grip on him - he sets his hands on Akechi’s shoulders and pushes him back gently.

“Wait,” he mutters, and looks away. Kissing Akechi has been something that he’s thought about plenty of times before, but something felt strange. “We shouldn’t.”

Akechi presses back into him, his fingertips brushing down the cloth of Akira’s chest. Akira can feel Akechi’s hair tickling his cheeks as he leans into him. “Why not,” Akechi questions softly.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he says, and the words feel incredibly ironic at the moment, something that Akechi doesn’t miss, if his breath of a laugh against his ear is any indication.

“Akira, please,” Akechi says, and the words sound so frustratingly sincere that Akira finds himself blushing. “Just try.” He turns his head, and his nose brushes against his cheek.

Akechi is warm and real and finally listening to what he has to say - it’s only fair that Akira listen to his requests as well. _Right?_

 _I want to kiss him,_ Akira thinks, and finds himself agreeing.

Akechi kisses the corner of his mouth; Akira sighs, and turns to meet his lips again, eyelids finally slipping closed just as Akechi fully leans his body into Akira’s.

Akira’s had his first kiss already, but he had assumed that Akechi hadn’t yet kissed anyone - he’s proven wrong at how fervently and expertly Akechi’s lips move against his. Akechi nips at Akira’s bottom lip, snags it in his teeth, and drags them across the wet skin of Akira’s lip. When he lets go, Akira huffs out a surprised laugh, his entire body beginning to feel hot.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that,” he asks, but Akechi doesn’t humor him with a reply - his mouth is back on Akira’s, and he’s slipped his hands back behind his neck. Akira hums, feeling the thrum of excitement reverberating through his veins. Despite his display, Akechi goes back to giving him soft, chaste kisses, moving down from his lips to his jaw.

Suddenly, he pulls back, heaving out a breath. “I,” he starts, and Akira wishes it weren’t so dark in this room, because he’d love to see the blush he knows is staining Akechi’s round cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Me neither,” Akira confesses. “But it’s okay. I like it.”

“You like it,” Akechi says, his voice coming out flat. “We were just trying to kill each other not ten minutes ago.”

“No, you were trying to kill me,” Akira corrects, and Akechi’s face twists into a frown. He probably shouldn’t think that this situation is funny, but he laughs nonetheless. “But you aren’t now. And I don’t think you will.”

Akechi hums. “What do you think I’ll do, then?” Akira feels his fingers brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck, and shivers.

“I think,” he pauses, and licks his lips, not missing how Akechi’s eyes followed his tongue. “That you’ll come back to us. That you’ll stop following Shido, and your twisted ambitions.”

“You think,” Akechi repeats.

“Yeah.” Akira tilts his head forward, and their foreheads bump. “I know that there’s good in you, Goro.”

Akechi sighs. “You’re a fool.”

“I know,” he smirks, and cups Akechi’s face between his hands and kisses him again. Their teeth clack together awkwardly, but he holds fast, moving their lips together in a slow, languid rhythm.

How many times has he imagined this? Every time he’s seen the detective at Leblanc, he’s visualized pressing his lips to his like this, drinking in his mouth and pushing him against the counter, not caring for Sojiro or customers as he went along.

He definitely has never thought of it to happen like this, however - the situation is unprecedented, a thief stealing a kiss from his enemy-turned companion, mere moments after said enemy had given his all to kill him under a twisted, maniacal desire and the wild power of his other Persona.

Akechi bites again at Akira’s lip, but he’s better prepared this time, and opens his mouth for him. Their tongues twist together, and Akechi is pushing Akira back again, so his body is flush against the wall. Akira groans into his mouth.

Akechi pulls back, and Akira takes this chance to dive into the skin on his neck, littering wet kisses across his skin that has Akechi pulling loosely at his hair.

“Akira,” he breathes, just as Akira bites his neck. “It’s-” Akira licks at the same spot.

He moves back with a smile. “What’s wrong, Goro?”

Akechi blinks lazily at him. “Let me,” he says, and suddenly he’s tugging at the fabric of Akira’s coat, pushing it off of his body before popping open a few buttons of his vest.

“Eager,” Akira says.

Akechi’s gaze drifts up to meet his. “You will be more than I,” he says, and takes the skin of Akira’s neck into his mouth. Akira purrs, tilting his head to the side to allow Akechi more access.

He shifts his body, and presses a knee between Akira’s legs with a lot more force than he had been expecting - he gasps, hands coming up to clutch at his shirt.

Akechi gnaws insistently at the junction between Akira’s neck and shoulder, a hand traveling downward to palm him over his pants.

“ _Goro,_ ” Akira startles.

“You don’t like it?” Akechi asks, beginning to move away.

Akira holds tight to him. “I do,” he says. “I was just surprised.”

Akechi smiles. “Then be a good boy,” he murmurs. “And let me take care of you.”

He slips his hand under his pants, and grabs Akira’s hard cock through his underwear. Akira gasps again, and finds himself grinding up against his touch. Akechi strokes him slowly and softly, and Akira mewls against him, back arching.

“You’re really enjoying this,” Akechi says, amusement evident in his voice. Akira whines in reply, hips jutting forward.

“ _Yes,_ ” he breathes, eyelids screwing closed when Akechi’s hand slips into the fabric of his boxers as well, finally touching his cock directly. “I like it,” he says. “I like you, Goro.”

“Really,” Akechi hums. “That’s a shame.”

He doesn’t feel Akechi’s hand slip into his pockets, but he hears the cock of his gun, and feels the barrel of it press against his head.

“I don’t really care for you,” he smiles, and pulls the trigger.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you'll nEVER SEE IT COMING
> 
> got insp for this from a friend who wrote a fic for an au i made for a different fandom 
> 
> yell at me @todorokissu on twitter


End file.
